


Prickles

by chooken



Series: Confusion [2]
Category: Westlife
Genre: Awkward Boners, Bad Decisions, Best Friends, Dirty Thoughts, Drunken Kissing, Fluff, Hangover, Internal Conflict, M/M, Morning After, Naked Cuddling, Sexuality, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after Confusion.  Mark and Kian wake up naked together, and Mark is left alone after Kian retreats to the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prickles

That was... a bit awkward.

Mark watches the door close, hears the shower go on a few seconds later. It's all happened remarkably fast. Waking up. Naked. And Kian...

Um.

Mark hitches the sheets a little bit higher, trying to think. He's wearing his boxer shorts now but he feels more exposed than he did before and in a way he really doesn't want to think about. Carrying on a calm conversation was hard enough, especially with the hangover pounding through his body and Kian's arse _right there_ , his back to Mark and Mark assumes that was just because Kian was, you know, naked, and didn't want Mark to see his cock.

Mark might have already... seen it.

Um.

He remembers a little bit. Most of what he said to Kian was true. He couldn't remember his room number, Kian had let him stay here at least until the morning. Mark remembers his room number now. It's two floors up. The idea of climbing out of bed and making it to the lift sounds like a trip through bloody hell.

Though the other option is staying here, and...

He knows Kian's lying about sleeping on the floor. He also knows they stumbled into the room at three in the morning, collapsed on the bed, and at some point, right before they'd slipped off to sleep, soft lips had pressed drowsily to his.

Kian doesn't appear to know that. And if he does he isn't bloody saying. Neither of them are. The clothes thing is a whole other kettle of fish and yeah, he's pretty sure he did kick his boxers off some time during the night, but Kian's were already off earlier than that. He'd said something, something bloody stupid and probably well meant about how it was alright that Mark was gay, you know, cos like... like... Mark's his mate, yeah? Good mate Mark, and Kian's secure and that and look, he'll totally take off his clothes cos he knows Mark's not gonna try nothing.

And Mark had laid there doubled up with laughter while Kian had kicked everything off and announced that there, they're mates and stuff. Even though it wasn't the first time he'd seen Kian naked because there was that nudie run he got dared to do in highschool, but Mark supposes this is the first time since he's come out and the sentiment is sweet, at least.

Kian's always been pretty good about it, though. The others are good too. Shane doesn't seem to mind at all, was just happy for him and didn't need much more in the way of details. Mark respects that. Mark's never been the kind of person to divulge all that much about his sex life, or lack thereof. Right up until that night in America and there was a very cute crew member on the World of Our Own set and the video wasn't amazing but what had been amazing was feeling hands on him, pushing under his clothes while he'd tried to touch _everything_ , sucking kisses in like it was the only way he could draw breath, then sidling back out the next morning, sinking down to breakfast and feeling like he wanted to fizz off the ceiling while the others stared blankly at their toast.

But Shane's fine. Nicky too. He has a kind of savage way of approaching it, though, like he assumes people are going to be arseholes and is ready to hack the heads off anyone who tries. It happens surprisingly little, but that's just Nicky. Fiercely protective of his own and Mark appreciates that too.

Kian, though. Mark told Kian first. He's not sure why, entirely. Maybe that it was the two of them together one day and it was one of the days he actually felt okay about it. Most days he didn't. Kian was saying something pointless and for a sudden, clear moment Mark could see a decade of friendship, of Kian always being on his side, always being there when he felt like he was losing himself a bit and he'd just...

Kian had pulled him into a hug. Mark had asked if he'd already known, and Kian had sort of shrugged and said he wasn't entirely surprised but that it was fine, of course it was fine. They'd shifted a little awkwardly, laughed, and then things had settled again. The epitome of anticlimax.

But then, later, he'd catch Kian... looking at him. In ways that Mark couldn't explain really but that made his skin prickle for some reason, like he was being studied. And their eyes would catch and Kian would look away, and Mark didn't know what he was supposed to do about the prickling feeling still singing up and down his spine. Why suddenly when Kian's hand brushed his that prickle would come back. Why he felt it when he um... sorted himself out.

He's still sitting in bed. The shower is still going. He needs to find his clothes. He needs to move.

He'd woken up a few hours after crashing. Disoriented and still drunk and when he'd opened his eyes Kian had still been naked. Sloppy and drunk and muscles loose against the sheets, a bit bloaty where his normally flat stomach had shared a few jugs of beer with Mark, his cock draped over his left thigh and chest moving slowly.

He's just... fucking beautiful.

Which is not a thought Mark is having. Nope. No. No way. A whole list of fucking Nuh-Uh. Kian is straight, Kian is his friend, Kian is... that prickly fucking feeling when Mark wraps a hand around himself while he's in his hotel room at night, biting his lip because he fucking knows what name's going to spill out if he lets himself.

But he wonders. At the most inopportune times. Kian sidling past him on the bus and Mark is _not_ thinking about how that firm body would feel pressed against him, pliant and arching and making gasping, breathless cries. Whether Kian would be slow, hands wandering all over Mark's skin and the thought makes him feel self-conscious and uneasy because Kian really is fit but it's not his own hand he imagines wrapped around him, not when intense blue eyes are giving him that look and he wants to know if those pursed, thoughtful lips would get swollen and pink on Mark's skin.

And now he knows what they'd feel like on his mouth and he just...

He can't deal with this. Kian doesn't remember kissing him and even if he did it wouldn't _mean_ anything. Nicky kissed Shane once on a dare, which was about the funniest fucking thing Mark's ever seen because Shane went _so_ red and looked like he didn't know where to put himself. It's not like they're shagging because of a kiss, realising that in fact men are for them the same way Mark's not going to suddenly want to fuck girls just because one kisses him.

And Kian isn't going to...

Clothes, Mark. Get out. Back to your room. None of this happened. It couldn't have. Kian doesn't remember and Mark knows that if he tries really hard he could forget too.

Forget Kian's tongue flicking out for just a second, cheeky on his top lip.

Forget waking up and wanting to touch so badly. Knowing he can't, that it's wrong wrong wrong wrong and probably counts as taking advantage but maybe Kian wouldn't mind. Coaxing him slowly to hardness so by the time Kian wakes up he feels too good to mind that it's Mark. Would let Mark suck him into another kiss and tangle fingers in his hair and fuck he _aches_ and this is so so wrong.

So he'd gone back to sleep. Closed his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that he was hard against the inside of his boxers.

And now he's hard against the sheets and Kian can't have much longer in the shower. He really is taking a long time, though. Mark wonders if he's... doing what he does himself when he takes a bit of extra time in the shower. It's a thought that doesn't help things at all. Kian thinks he's probably gone already and Mark wants to press his ear to the door and see if he can hear. Hear what Kian sounds like. Whether he'd make soft, hiccuping gasps like Mark does or whether he'd be louder, groaning and grunting and crying out. Whether Kian would say filthy things to him.

He... wants that. Kian's always confident, never seems embarrassed at all and Mark wants to hear the things he'd never have the guts to say himself. I'm gonna fuck you baby, fuck you so hard you see stars, gonna make you mine. Make him Kian's. Make him come, bent over and clawing at the sheets and Kian sawing into him and kissing the back of his neck and _saying things_. Growling in his ear and slapping a hand down on his arse and he _burns_ for it.

Burns for Kian pulling out and rolling him over, sinking in again and kissing him so softly, Mark's leg over his shoulder and Kian breathing that yes, that's right, open for me, so beautiful and his cheeks are burning while he listens to the water shut off because fuck, he's supposed to be out of here and it's not like he can go anywhere without being pretty bloody obvious unless he grabs for his jeans right now and gets out before...

The door opens.

Kian.

Um.

“Mark!” Kian is naked. Shit, he's naked. Golden and beautiful, grabbing a towel and yanking it around his waist. He looks flushed. Mark doesn't want to think about that but oh god. “Why are you still here?”

“Sorry,” Mark winces. He's still naked above the waist. Kian has noticed. They stare at each other awkwardly, Kian biting his lip. Mark doesn't know what he's looking at but there's that prickle again and he _really_ isn't getting up now. “I'll get out of your hair.”

He still isn't standing up. He can't. Kian doesn't move either.

“Off you go, then.”

“Yeah.” Mark hesitates. “Could you um... grab my clothes please?”

“Get them yourself.”

“Yeah.” He's bright red. He must be. His face is on fire. “So um... how are you?”

“I'm fine.” Kian rolls his eyes, then bends down to grab the jeans and t-shirt on the floor near the bathroom door. They're hurled at Mark's head. Mark starts to wriggle into them under the sheets. Kian is looking at him in confusion.

He's dressed. He's still hard but he's dressed at least. He slides out of bed, trying to angle himself a little so Kian won't see, then grabs his keys and wallet and heads for the door.

“Know where you're going?”

“Think so,” Mark grimaces. Kian smirks. “Thanks for um... letting me crash here.”

“You're welcome.” Kian holds the door open. They brush past each other on the way out and oh, he hopes Kian didn't feel that. A shudder thrills under his skin, sensitive bulge nudging against Kian's towel and Jesus Jesus fuck. “I'll... see you in a bit?” Kian's blushing too. Shit, he fucking knows.

“In a bit. Yeah.” Mark's in the hallway. He doesn't want to be. He wants to be back inside, Kian pressing him to the shower tiles and rutting against him. He doesn't want to be thinking about that. The door starts to close. Then it doesn't. Kian's head pokes back out.

“Do you wanna have like... lunch? Later?”

Mark blinks.

“What, with the others? I thought we already were.”

“Yeah. No. Just us, I mean.” Kian gives him a weak smile.

“Why?”

“I don't... know.” Kian is red. Mark is red. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

Kian nods.

The door closes.

Mark heads back to his room, a prickle chasing down his spine.

 


End file.
